


When we are old people

by kellipsis



Category: Fake News RPF
Genre: Character Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-12-23 20:03:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/930552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kellipsis/pseuds/kellipsis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Both of us hate funerals. But here we are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When we are old people

**Author's Note:**

> It’s my first fanfic in English, which is NOT my mother tongue. So…if it looks like a junior student’s assignment for writing class…I guess it’s…normal? Sorry for the poor writing.

It’s not a letter or a speech or something. I'm not a writer. Yes, I dictated a few books. But no, not a writer. And I hope you will never read this. Who am I kidding to? Of course you'll never read this. After all, I suggest my audiences not to read. You HAVE read my books, haven’t you?

What am I gonna say? Wait…okay…funeral, funeral…  
There we are, at the funeral.  
The one thing about you is that, you've always told me that how much you hate funerals, where people are not allowed to laugh, even there is something to laugh about. You love laughter, of course. It's what you've been feed on. (Literally, you earn bread and cheese from making people laugh.) Not me. You are the one who act like a fool. I’m the one who give opinions, the right ones. (Though I’ve been told that I'm the one who act like a lunatic, I ignore it. That’s the ball.)  
Another thing about you is that, you’ve always been supportive. Remember the day Papa Bear claimed to kill me? You stood for me. (At least I think so.) You helped me to run my super PAC (in a definitely non-coordinate way, even though you bought a zeppelin.) and gave it back to me after that (yeah, some chase or fight or force was involved, but not a big deal) Not to mention, the very day that I decided to be myself (which also been described as a crazy right-wing, though I also chose to ignore that.), I remembered you laughed your head off.(That’s a laughter of support, I suppose)  
Also, I have to thank you. You are the one who found my incredible talent and opinions. You gave me the chance to dictate my nation, for America! Thousands of people got to get the right thing, my thing, about… everything! Grâce à toi! It’s French, meaning, thanks to you!  
Let’s just skip the teary part. You know, for the last time.  
You know who is talking? …I have no idea…Who the hell is that? Seriously. Auntie…Linda? She is crying like pulp!  
Oh, she is done.

 

And then, Your turn.  
I saw you rose.  
Yes, you stepped up to the front, quivering a little bit. Don't worry. Just a little bit. You’re not that old.  
And then, you stood in front of all the guests, on my funeral.  
Do you remember that I told you that I won’t die? Well, it seems too hard for God. So he took me with him anyway. Not a big deal.  
You lips parted.  
I couldn't listen.

"It was an honor to be his friend. And, it’s really a privilege to keep being friend with him for my whole life."  
No, you were wrong. Shame on you. I laughed, but no one listened. No one could hear.  
Of course I’m going to heaven. After all, I’m God’s favorite, (Not you Lucifer! How many times do I have to remind you! ) though my church seems don’t like me. Heaven has everything. I’ll remember to bring my Hawaii suit for the beach and sea.  
I’m going to the heaven, waiting for you to knock on my door, by the way, it’s a luxurious mansion-door, and mumbling about how bad the traffic was or how cheesy Jewish heaven was. You brought some beer. Anderson Cooper or Steve Carell brought some chilly flavor chips (that’s the only thing they can get from hell. Give some respect!). We sit down and watch non-cables (Watching only cables is a part of torture in hell, I suppose.) We couldn’t help to laugh, making Bill O’reilly upstairs or down stairs very mad and started to hit us by throwing holly water bottles or chili sauce. And you declare another debate, or I declare another running for president. We will be young again.  
I’m gonna tip my hat to you, my friend, for the good thing you have done and the best moments we spent together.  
And I’m gonna wag my finger to the crowd. It’s the first time you speak without receiving a good laughter.  
P.S. I look GOOD in picture!

Yours,  
Stephen Colbert

**Author's Note:**

> I know I shouldn’t even write about death or anything that…big…for my first time. But it’s just…there in my mind. I want to write something as the “Stephen” while meaning something else from the real Steven. It’s complicated and I hope it won’t confuse you – Yes, I did try to make it appears like “a tribute to Jon by Stephen on Jon’s funeral” and then turns it around. I hope I did it?... Please give me comments after reading it, tell me where I gone wrong, I’m really, really looking forward to them.


End file.
